Altercation
by Fendo
Summary: When an entire guild is obliterated in mere hours, one man is left standing. He is broken and on the verge of death, but still standing. There is no hope left for salvation, but when one has a promise to keep, there is still that need to try. Everyone around him dead, Lyon prepares to cast the dreaded Iced Shell, but an alternate path is open to him. (Death/blood/cursing)
1. The Storm

*kicks down door* hello yes it is me, this might not make sense but screw it ive been suffering with this idea for a week just take it

* * *

Time period: War of the Alverez Empire

* * *

His body ached, every muscle and joint in his body was on fire. Standing was painful, but moving was worse, and he couldn't afford to fall down now. Not yet.

 _Just a little longer_ , he thought. _Just a little more power._

Everything around Lyon surged, wind swirling around him so cold ice particles formed in the torrent. His stance was deep and his arms crossed over each other, mirroring the same position his dear master had taken before disappearing forever. The same would happen to him, but at this point, it was of little concern to him. Nothing mattered any longer, everything he lived for was destroyed and at splinters at his feet, what reason did he have for not using the spell anymore?

This bastard, this _monster_ and his lackeys had managed to defeat his entire guild, killing each of them terribly and quickly, before anyone had a chance to do anything. They had fought, everyone had tried their best, but it was useless. They intended to fight down to the last man, and they had reached that point.

Lyon was the only one left.

The only Lamia Scale member who had survived this long.

And he shouldn't have. He should be dead, just like everyone else. He nearly wished he was. He had failed everyone, let them all die at his feet horribly, and all because he wasn't there soon enough. Wasn't there long enough to save nearly anyone, and the ones he had were gone at this point.

The blood staining his cape and clothing was crystallizing, everything was a constantly moving white blur, the winds so strong it felt as though they would tear him apart.

He heard screams of rage though the twisting currents, faintly making their way to his ears through the twisting winds. He didn't listen. They didn't matter.

Everyone was gone, everyone was _dead_ , their blood splattered across the ground and his body as if it were nothing. Lyon's blood boiled, rage and despair filling him to the brim, and he could feel everything about to crack.

They had taken him in, after all he had done beforehand. He had taken away three very strong members of their guild, all on some foolish, selfish quest, for four whole years. He had treated them like nearly nothing, giving little care or comfort when they needed it. But after they were defeated, and everything he had worked towards for three years was destroyed, they welcomed him back to their home. To their family. He distinctly remembered Toby getting him in a death-grip hug when he had tried to leave, thinking he was unwanted.

After that he was still cold and distant, but through the years he had clearly loosened up, it had taken less than a year for that to take effect. But they still treated him like family. Toby, Yuka, Sherry, the ones he had wronged the most, stuck closest to him. Even now he had a hard time grasping why.

And now they were gone.

He had seen them die right in from of him, had held their bodies as they drifted away from him. Disappeared forever.

His throat was raw from screaming, from yelling, from crying after the family he had lost. He had lost his entire family in a matter of hours, his home, his life. He wasn't going to let this demon get away with it.

As he prepared to finally cast the spell, throwing his arms apart and fully embracing death, or in a way, eternal life, he remembered something. He had promised. He had promised Chelia once, after explaining to her what Iced Shell did, and why he couldn't use it unless there were no choices left.

She had made him promise, even pinky-swear not to use it.

" _As long as the guild stands, I swear that I, Lyon Vastia, will not use the Iced Shell, okay?" he had said borderline dramatically, as if to tease her._

 _"That's not long enough!" She had said, stomping her foot. He had simply smiled and patted her on the head. "Yes it is," he chuckled. "because Lamia Scale is forever". She liked that answer._

"Lamia Scale is forever..." he whispered. Perhaps there was something else... he had worked on altercation magic. Could he alter Iced Shell so that he wouldn't break his promise?

Chelia may be dead, the rest of the guild may be dead, but as long as he still stands, Lamia Scale is still alive. He still had a promise to keep. And he would, to the best of his ability. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

He needed to cast the spell, he was running out of time. His enemy would get away, or if he managed to get through the storm he had made, he could kill him before he could do anything to stop him. Just like everyone else.

Alter some parts, use less magic, twist some effects... it could work. But there was still a large chance he would die. No time, no time! It was now or never, and if he ended up breaking his promise by dying, there was nothing he could do. He regretted it, but this was the best he had.

"Spell Altercation: Ice Make: Shell!" he cast, un-crossing his arms over each other swiftly, all the magic he accumulated being drained from him and circling around his enemy. This was it. No turning back.

He heard screams and curses through the noise, the never ending noise that he didn't think he would ever be able to forget. _Curse all you like,_ he thought. _No matter what happens to me, this is the end of you._ He was losing himself to this cold haze, everything was muffled and blurred, and he could feel parts of him starting to flake away.

He thought it wasn't working, that his efforts to keep his promise were in vain. There truly was no way to cheat a spell that required your own life as payment, was there? Is this was Ur felt like? All those years ago?

He was falling under, fading away. Until he wasn't. Blindly cold pain shot through him, coursing through his veins from his fingers and up his arms, his entire body. Everything felt like it was shattering, being ripped apart. He must have done something wrong, then.

Damn it.

His arm, he realized. He couldn't move his left arm. It was frozen solid, the part connecting at the shoulder that was still flesh was piercing with pain. And then it shattered, the pain so blinding and deep it tore a scream from his bloodied lips. Was it supposed to be like this? Is this what Ur felt like as she turned into a prison for Deliorah?

Everything was freezing, everything still hurt so much, he just wished if he was going to fade away entirely it would just happen already.

But it didn't.

Lyon crashed to the ground, the little feeling he had left in his legs was nothing but pain as he landed roughly on his knees. He buckled forward, his remaining arm trying to shoot out to stop himself, but it was too stiff and beaten he could scarcely move it at all, and the rest of him fell to the rocky ground.

He was barely conscious, the only thing he could register was how cold he felt. He always felt a little cold, ever since his training with Ur as a child, but it had never seemed uncomfortable. But now every part of him felt as though he was frozen solid, the chill drilling into his bones and filling him with a cold ache. Either his spell didn't work, or the altercation was a success. Either way, he didn't think he would make it much longer anyway.

All that he could see was blurred splotches of color, and nearly all sound was blocked out but the ringing in his ears. Breathing was hard, and the coppery taste of blood was prominent, along with the sickening smell that refused to leave him.

It was getting too hard to stay awake, or to think.

No. No no, he promised he wouldn't die to this spell, to Chelia, to his guild, his family. To Gray, too, when the subject had come up. He never outright said it, but it was obvious what Gray wanted and Lyon silently agreed to.

 _Get up,_ he gritted his teeth. _Just hold on until backup shows up, despite how much you don't want to. I refuse to let Lamia Scale go completely destroyed._

Though it hardly mattered anymore. Lamia Scale was gone, and all that was left was his broken and nearly lifeless shell.

 _Don't think about it._

He forced himself up, trying a good few times before he finally managed to sit himself onto his knees. Everything still hurt, and he was shivering out of control. He had lost too much, too much blood, too much magic, too much of his family. There was hardly anything left of him as it was. But he had to see it, see if he made it work. He had to kill that bastard if he wasn't already dead for what he did.

He struggled to get his head up, taking in slowly the sight of sparkling ice, the vague form of a person inside, though Lyon could hardly see anything but the blue of the ice.

It worked.

He had managed to cast the altered spell and make it out alive, from what he could tell only losing an arm, which if he survived would be devastating to him as a mage. But that hardly mattered. Hardly anything did now.

He distantly noted that his face was drenched. With and blood or with tears, mostly likely both, he didn't care. But as he shuddered and teetered on his knees, he decided that it was tears. They streamed freely down his face, blurring his vision to where he saw nothing but dark colors and liquid. Breathing was getting harder, which was dangerous at this point, and his throat was on fire. Definitely crying now.

He was sobbing.

A scream tore from his raw throat, broken and full of rage, taking all of his breath and remaining strength to keep his head up. It echoed and the sound hurt his ears, the high pitched ringing drilling into his brain. He hardly cared, he just wanted to scream until he couldn't breathe anymore, until he couldn't think about anything. Everyone was dead, and he could do nothing but scream at the sky and himself.

He should've come back faster, been quicker in his defense, something! He could have prevented feeling the life drain out of Yuka and seeing the light fade out of Toby's eyes as he stopped breathing. Could have prevented seeing Chelia torn down in front of him as Sherry screamed. Sherry. She shouldn't have come, should have stayed with her new guild, but because she didn't she was gone now, too. He could have prevented seeing the lifeless body of his guild master. The blood on all the rocks and the mutilated bodies of the rest of the guild.

There were nearly one hundred members of Lamia Scale when the war against Fairy Tail was waged by the Empire. Now there was only one, and he most likely wasn't going to last long. He was going to die, frozen by his own spell and devoid of anything but misery.

Distantly there was a muffled cry, or perhaps what seemed distant with his blotched hearing. His ears still rung, but he could hear at least something now. He heard it again, a tad clearer than before.

"...on!" There was something there...

"...yon!"

"….ease...Lyo..."

"...ammit, Lyon!"

"..Holy shit, what happened here? Lyon!"

Gray, it had to have been. He couldn't look up, but he could recognize his voice through the muffled ringing. It was close now, he had barely realized that Gray was beside him now, hands on his shoulder. He shook him, but Lyon didn't move.

"Lyon.." Gray was shaking slightly. "Holy shit, Lyon, what happened to your arm?" he was shouting, making his ears ring louder and sharper. He flinched as Gray shook his shoulders gently.

His eyes wouldn't focus, he couldn't move, everything was cold but it was hot and it felt like knives were in his skin and bone and he didn't care about it he didn't want to think _he didn't._

He didn't know what happened, but somehow he ended up with his face buried in Gray's shoulder and his hand he didn't know he could still move gripping desperately at his coat. His body was nearly limp and he was losing feeling everywhere, but he could feel Gray's hands on his back. He must have said something, because he distantly heard Gray mutter something back after he tensed up and pulled Lyon closer.

Breathing was harder. So was thinking. And holding on to his adoptive brother's dirtied coat.

And the thought of staying alive much longer was exhausting.

* * *

The sight of the battleground was devastating.

Lyon had been with Gray and Juvia when they heard the distress call through a communication lacrima, and just hearing about the battle would have been enough for Gray. This was sick, and his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts of worry and mourning.

The message was broken and full of static, but all units with a lacrima heard it. Yelling and explosions could be heard in the background, accompanied with heavy breathing from the speaker."-Spri...n Twel... amia Scale.. o many enem... ckup needed!...ermaid Hee... owhere to be se... elp, please!" and it had cut out with a scream.

They could tell Lyon wanted to leave to help, the moment the message started his eyes were full of worry and he was extremely tense. They told him to go, they could make it without him."Go be with your guild! We know how important they are to you, we can handle this!" Gray had said, and with a stiff nod Lyon was off.

Seeing the sight of destruction now, Gray's gut twisted with worry. Nearly a hundred people had been eliminated, and they had only received the distress call forty or so minutes ago. How fast had they been taken out? This was the third strongest guild in Fiore, and if Gray hadn't been where he was, he wouldn't believe that they were wiped out.

This was Lyon's guild. From the looks of everything they'd found thus far, it was completely eradicated. If Lyon was still alive, and Gray prayed that he was, how was he feeling right now? What was left for him at this point?

 _No time to think about that,_ he thought. _Keep moving, we have to find him. We have to find at least some survivors._

Once he heard about the rescue team and how bad of a condition Lamia Scale was in, he had to go along. They were there, and he couldn't just keep going forward when he didn't even know if Lyon was alive. He would get back soon, he told himself. Find Lyon, that was the main priority.

"Lyon!" He called, shouting off to the copious amounts of rubble and corpses. "Lyon, dammit! Answer me! Where are you?!" He continued to call, jogging through the deserted battleground, trying his best to ignore the stench of blood and the dead bodies all around him. They were already dead, he couldn't do anything for them now. Lyon could be alive, and he wasn't going to stop until he found him.

He didn't stop, sweat dripping from his brow and his breathing quick and desperate.

 _Keep going, keep going, you have to spot him you have to you have to._

After Ur gave up her life, and Ultear followed in her footsteps to save everyone else, Lyon was the only other "family" member he had left, not including Fairy Tail. He would never say it aloud, but Lyon might as well be his brother. They grew up together, lived in the same house, connected and fought in perfect sync, despite their petty fights. He would be damned if he was going to lose him too!

And that was when he heard it. A distant scream, echoing ever so slightly off some of the town's remaining rubble. It sounded shattered, raw. Broken. There was no way that could be good.

"Lyon!" Gray bellowed, twisting his way around corners of building and making his way over piles of debris, running all the way with no pause but to decide which way to turn. Why was this town such a maze?!

He could see something now, as the wind died down. Some sort of.. jagged tower? Whatever it was it was obviously Lyon's making, as it was solid ice. But it looked different than his usual ice.. something was off. It didn't look like his Ice Geyser, it looked more like it was formed around something, rather than up from the ground towards something. It looked a lot like... Gray's stomach dropped.

 _No no no no no, Lyon you idiot! You wouldn't! We said we would never use that damn spell you bastard, what were you thinking?!_

He screamed louder now, dashing through the wreckage, desperately trying to get to where the ice reached the ground. If he had done what Gray thought he had done, he was going to yank his spirit out of that damn ice and beat his face in!

He turned a corner and skidded to a halt. There it was, the bottom of the ice tower.

 _Where's Lyon where is he he better not be that damn ice please no no no where where!?_

His panicked eyes focused, and he saw a hunched figure not far from the ice, partially obscured from his view by more rubble. He was breathing heavily and shaking terribly, and looked practically torn to sheds. White hair, remains of a white cape, it had to be him. Gray nearly cried with relief.

"Lyon! Shit, are you okay!?" he yelled, his voice cracking as he nearly scurried over the last pile of rubble.

Lyon was a mess, every part of him had some amount of blood on him and his clothes were torn to pieces. He looked like he had a foot in the grave, nearly both. His skin was so pale, even paler than usual, he seemed almost like he was made of ice. His hair was dirty, bloody, tattered, as were his clothes and fingers. There was at least half a cup of blood on his face, that looked like it was coming from a gash near his hairline.

It was horrible to look at, and Gray wasn't even all the way to him yet. Lyon looked... frosted over. Ice crystals stuck to him, a thin layer covering nearly all his skin. That might explain why he looked so pale, but why was it there? No time to think, just help him now!

Gray ran over to him, dropping roughly to his knees beside him in the chilled dirt. "Lyon!" he cried, almost too scared to touch him. Blood wasn't the only thing dripping steadily from his face. Fat tears streamed down his scuffed cheeks, and his entire body shook. His breathing came in short, rough gasps, accompanied by whimpers and coughs, and his eyes were far off and unfocused. This was bad.

He had seen Lyon cry before, back on Galuna Island, and he was in terrible shape then. His dream was fully crushed, and there wasn't anything more for him to work toward. Not once since then had he even seen him tear up in a bad situation. Now, he seemed devastated. Even worse than he had on Galuna all those years ago. He hardly looked like he was in his own body, like he wasn't even right next to Gray right now.

"Lyon, dammit, Lyon!" he put on hand on his adoptive brother's shoulder. He looked around frantically, to see if there was anyone else, anyone who had survived, the rescue team, anyone! "Holy shit, what happened here? Lyon!" He adjusted his body so that he was more in front of Lyon, ducking down slightly to try to see his face. Through his blood stained hair, Lyon wasn't even focusing on him.

He placed his other hand on Lyon's left shoulder, and shook him gently. Lyon didn't even react. He felt so cold under Gray's touch, and he wasn't even touching his skin. But his left shoulder, why was it so much colde-

His eyes snapped to it, and he saw his hand resting on stark white skin, ice crawling up from the joint where his arm should have been. _Should have._ All that was there was a cracked mass of ice, bloody and connected to Lyon's shoulder joint as if it belonged there. "Holy shit.." he whispered. "Lyon..."

He shook Lyon again, "Holy shit, Lyon, what happened to your arm?" Lyon flinched, and his eyes twitched. "What the hell did you do?!"

A pause, a hacking cough, and a gasp came from the practically catatonic man.

"...Gray.." a cracked whisper made it's way through the man's sobs, and he heard Lyon's teeth grinding together. He saw Lyon struggling to move, his remaining arm shaking as it barely managed to move. Gray couldn't breathe, Lyon had lost too much blood, he lost a fucking _arm_ , the fact that he was even trying to do anything was astonishing. And he'd lost his family too. The dead look in his eyes signaled he seemed to know that.

As Gray couldn't even move, he felt a weak tug at the coat on his chest. Lyon had barely managed to close his fist around the cloth, and his breathing was rougher, shallower. Gray gasped as Lyon tumbled into him, all of his little reserved strength finally giving. His face buried itself into Gray's shoulder, and he was grasping at his coat harder now.

Gray wrapped his arms fearfully around the older student's back, as if he held too tight he would shatter. None of this made sense. The ice tower was the same kind of ice as Iced Shell, but Lyon was still alive, still whole, sans an arm. He was shaking so much Gray was vibrating along with him, and not just from his despairing sobs. He was freezing. He could feel the cold emitting from Lyon, his icy white locks pushed against his neck were partially crystallized, the warmth from Gray melting it.

This was impossible. Lyon was still alive. Somehow. Not that Gray was complaining.

"I.." a hiccuped word made it from Lyon's mouth. Gray finally let out the breath he was hardly aware he was holding, and tightly, but gently, held Lyon. Both of them could hardly breathe.

"..T-they're all.." he coughed. His teeth chattered and his body was so cold it was actually making Gray chilled.

 _Holy shit how on earth did he do this?_

Gray gently tugged him closer, stray tears dripping down his face. He wasn't even aware he was crying.

"Shut up" he mumbled, gritting his teeth together. "We're gonna get you help, you're gonna be fine, just hold the hell on, Lyon"

 _I've gotta warm him up, he'll die at this rate,_ Gray thought. _Gotta do something._

As he turned to desperately bury his face in Lyon's hair, he realized that Lyon's grip was gone. His hand was loosely lying, pressed up against the bottom of Gray's ribcage. He was hardly breathing.

"Shit, shit, no no no!" he gritted out. "Don't you dare fall under! Dammit Lyon, stay awake! Help's coming, just hold the hell on, stupid!". He shook him roughly, bringing his hand up to Lyon's bicep to pull him away. He didn't even know the extent of Lyon's injuries, but he at least knew he was short an entire fucking arm, and was almost completely out of magic. That plus the obvious blood loss... No, shit, he wasn't going to let Lyon die! Especially not like this!

"Dammit, shi-, SOMEONE HELP, PLEASE!" He screamed, his eyes blurring with more tears. There was a war going on, nearly the entirety of Lamia Scale had been taken out, and now the closest thing he had to a blood relative was dying. Again. The last one he had.

He panickingly put a hand to Lyon's neck, pushing himself off his knees at the same time. Pulse, pulse , pulse, there's got to be a pulse! He pulled Lyon over onto his right side and pushed him onto his back, feeling desperately for a pulse in his neck. He was ice cold, was it possible for him to get colder? If so, it seemed it. His skin was waxy and still frosted over, there was little to no color in his skin at all. Not even the tell-tale purple of the lips when too cold. That only happened when you had frostbite.

 _How the hell did you manage to give yourself fucking frostbite, you idiot!?_

Shit shit shit, where where, where's the damn pulse!? There! It was there, Lyon was still alive, but barely. He yelled for help again, his throat raw and burning. There were more tears, mingling with his own and Lyon's blood. It would be too late soon! Lyon needed help, now!

"This way!" A muffled call, close. "There's survivors, let's go!"

 _Thank God._

Everything was a blur, at least five people ran up to him, nearly had to wrench Gray away from Lyon, and he too was being treated. Questions, questions. Was he alright? Was there anyone else? What was his friend's condition? What happened? How much blood had his friend lost? But he could hardly answer any. Lyon was dying and his blood was on Gray's clothes, infused into that damn hunk of ice where his arm should be, too.

"He's fading, we have to move fast!"

"Where's that healer girl?"

"We need to warm him up, pronto!"

Words and sentences blurred together and overlapped, and Gray knew that no matter how much he wanted to be next to Lyon, to hold his hand, something, that he couldn't intervene. Lyon was being rushed off, and he thought he heard Wendy in there somewhere, and he was being pulled along with them. He wasn't in need of much medical attention, to hell with him!

This was a war and there were bound to be sacrifices, there had already been over a hundred, some from every guild, but he prayed that Lyon wouldn't be one of those.

He couldn't bear to lose the last of his and Ur's family.

* * *

OKAY SO LIKE. idk if spell altercation is a thing thats possible in the slightest, BUT i did want to write an idea where Lyon uses Iced Shell, but i wanted him to survive somehow. there are at least 4 other versions of this idea still bopping around in my head, but this is what i managed to get down.

there are a lot of things that go into spell altercation (in theory), the idea i have is that you have to work out how to alter a certain spell ahead of time, kind of like jutsushiki i suppose? Lyon was supposed to have worked on this ahead of time, in case he ever needed to use it, but not lose his life in the process. (i have a lot of other little ideas that go in with that too, that i may end up writing) in this version though, i decided for it to be a certain kind of magic you can research and learn, and be able to redirect and alter a spells effect. like creating new spells during battle as they sometimes do, but more complicated and less devastating for the user.

i suppose its more of a honed skill, than anything else. nevertheless, i didnt go into explaining it much because Lyon already knew how it worked. so there you have it! my bullcrappy idea that probably is impossible. whatever.

*there is a SLIGHT chance i may continue this. but dont count on it, so take this as it is!

hope you enjoyed! i actually havent written almost anything in a REALLY long time, so i hope this isnt crap. but i can def say im better than i was.

Thank you for reading!


	2. After the Storm

*still patching up the door from last time* eeEEEEEYYYYYY GUESS WHO IT IS! IT ME WITH ANOTHER BULLSHIT CHAPTER!

* * *

Gray sat at Lyon's bedside, sitting back in an uncomfortable wooden chair. The room smelled of medicine and antibiotics, herbs he didn't know the name of mingling in with it all. There was little to no sound, except the steady breathing of the room's many occupants. The curtains by the sides of the bed were pulled closed, separating the two ices mages from the rest of everything else.

They were in Fairy Tail's infirmary, called back into a temporary partial retreat after another attack on the Empire, the entirety of the beds filled with injured guild members. Except one. That was Lyon's bed.

He wasn't a Fairy Tail guild member, and at this point he wasn't a member of any guild. There wasn't one left for him.

Gray sighed to himself, sinking down further into his chair. Everything ached, and this chair wasn't helping. He was considering sitting on the bed at this point. _No, that's stupid,_ he thought. Lyon wasn't to be disturbed from his rest, Porlyusica insisted on that. The white haired man had woken up to smaller disturbances before, he didn't want to risk it. He had taken one hell of a beating already, he didn't need the old lady hitting him, too.

Lyon had, too. He had a damn close brush up with death, in fact he still looked like he was waiting at his door. That altered version of Iced Shell he had used nearly killed him in the state he was in when he cast it, only immediate magic medical attention managed to save him, teetering between life and death. Taking his arm definitely wasn't a nice price either, though. Even with it he would still look horrible.

His once stark white and frosted skin was now brightly flushed, with blotches of purple and yellows all over his body. His face was the most affected though, his usual pale complexion was pink across his dry, chap cheeks and dark circles around his eyes. His lips were chapped and still had signs of splitting, and a deep gash tended with gauze was near his hairline.

A long cut ran from his collarbone to down past his guild mark, where it got deeper, as it must have been the impact point. Bruises and smaller cuts were on the slopes of his shoulders, back, and practically everywhere else. And there was a large, particularly bad bruise over his heart. _How apropos_. Bandages were wrapped all over his body, up and down every remaining limb and around his abdomen, crossing diagonally right over his chest and shoulder. Some were even wrapped around his neck and around his head, holding the gauze in place.

Gray couldn't see the rest of him at the moment, due to him being under thick covers from the chest down, save his right arm, but he vividly remembered the battered state his body had been in. Arms injured everywhere with multiple cuts, bruises, and other lacerations, and a deep puncture on the left side of his abdomen. At least three of his ribs had been broken, one had even punctured a lung. His legs were in bad condition too, his knees had been bloodied and scraped, with a fracture in his right shin. He had broken at least a toe or two, and the bottoms of his feet were rubbed raw. All parts of him showed signs of frostbite, as Gray suspected.

But his remaining arm and hand were the worst.

Apparently holding that spell and managing to keep at least one of his arms was harder than Gray had thought. The stress from it nearly dislocated his shoulder, tendons had been pulled to almost being ripped, and his elbow and fingers had been scraped and torn to near shreds. His fingers were bloody, the skin scuffed and raw when Gray had gotten to him at the ice tower, and freezing cold. The fact that he could move them at all at the time was surely something. He didn't lose any fingernails thankfully, but he was close.

Now, after they had warmed him up and saved him from his self-imposed frostbite ( _Good job, idiot_ ), his finger tips were black, the darkness fading out higher up as the skin turned sickly pale instead. The tips of his ears were darkened, too. Frostbite was a nasty condition, that was for sure. He had blisters before, but thanks to Wendy's magic and Porlyusica's medical knowledge, they had managed to save him from having those very long. He still had some others here and there, though.

And the stump that was left of his left arm was no pleasant sight, either. The ice was gone now, that had eventually shattered and left it an open, gushing wound, of which everyone was in a hurry to quickly stop the bleeding and bandage. The flesh had been torn horribly, it looked as though his arm had been ripped off, tearing muscles and skin tissue as it detached. There was barely anything left of it, only the shortest stump was left attached to his shoulder joint, not completely gone as Gray had thought.

The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

Not only was it disgusting and looked horrendously painful, Lyon was now short an arm. The two of them used Ice Make magic, which to make a stable creation with, you needed to cast with two hands. Lyon had cast with just one for many years, which in the end didn't turn out well for him, so he went back to using two. He didn't have that option anymore.

Gray didn't know what he would do. Get an prosthetic arm, like Gildarts? But could he cast with it? Gildarts never seemed to need two hands, so Gray had no idea. He would have to ask about that.

But even if he could cast with a fake limb, it would still have a devastating impact on the older ice Mage. He had already lost his entire guild, which drove him to use Iced Shell, albeit an altered one, and go nearly catatonic after falling into the worst physical and emotional state he had ever seen him in. Gray didn't know how much more trauma he would be able to handle.

It wouldn't be nice when he finally woke up, Gray knew that, but he still wished that it would just _happen already._ His breathing was even, and despite how dreadful he looked, he was stable. Sometimes he would sweat and his breathing would get uneven, which was worrying, but for the most part, he was secure.

A few times during the unstable moments, he had mumbled something, his brows furrowing and muscles tensing. No one had been able to decipher most of what he was saying, but a jumbled name or two, and perhaps a "please" were heard in there. No one said anything about it. They all knew why he would be saying something like that.

It worried Gray, and everyone else, that he had been having dreams (or more likely, nightmares) before he had even woken up yet. It had been three days, and not once had he shown signs of waking up soon. He was practically in a coma. Maybe he was. Gray didn't want to think about that.

But if he was comatose, he wouldn't be having dreams. He held on to that for reassurance. But what must be in those dreams is what concerned Gray more. He, Juvia, and the the rest of the rescue team had only showed up after the battle was over, and that had been enough to make Gray's stomach churn and have difficulty sleeping. Lyon was _there_. He was awake and active through it. He couldn't imagine the horrors he must have seen while on that battlefield.

Except he nearly could. He had seen the bodies, the state of the town after it was over. It was abhorrent. You couldn't look anywhere without seeing blood and rubble, and the stench of blood and death was sickening. The stench of Lyon's dead guild, dead family. And he had likely seen many of them die. Just ideas of what Lyon must be seeing in his head made Gray's skin crawl.

He had seen some of Lyon's closest friends' bodies, too. The ones from back on Galuna, who at this point had been with him for nearly ten years. And Chelia, too. Even the guild master. He prayed Lyon hadn't seen them, or worse, seen them _die_. He would have to figure that once he finally woke up. And he would wake up. He had to remind himself of that.

Wendy was a mess after Lamia Scale had been wiped out, too. Everyone was discouraged and full of grief, but Wendy and Carla had been a part of Lamia Scale. One of Wendy's best friends was killed in the slaughter. The family she made in that year the guild had split up was all gone, save Lyon. He wondered if Wendy was family in Lyon's mind, too. He hoped she was, then he would have at least someone left.

But Jura was still alive, too, as he wasn't there when the guild was destroyed. If he had been, they probably wouldn't have lost all but one. Hopefully Lyon wouldn't be bitter about that, and that he and Jura were on good terms. They always seemed to be, when Jura was with Lamia Scale, but he didn't know how Lyon felt about him leaving to be part of the magic council.

Lyon mumbled something, snapping Gray from his thoughts. His jaw was tight, and his breathing was fast and uneven.

 _Shit._

Gray groaned to himself, looking sadly at the older student. According to Porlyusica, this happened about every day, usually in short bursts, or more subtle drawn out ones that had him overheating eventually. There was nothing much they could do for him when it happened, just try to keep his temperature low, as waking him during an "episode" could cause him to go into a panic. It was never a good feeling when these struck, unable to help him at all. Gray had only been there during one other time, and it felt just as terrible as it did then.

Gray leaned against the bed, his arms crossed over each other, eyes locked onto Lyon's face.

Lyon was sweating, his eyes were clenched shut, and his dark circles somehow looking darker. His breathing was deeper and more frantic, his brow furrowed, and small, quiet grunts escaped from his throat every now and then.

He mumbled something incoherent, his blackened fingers tried to grip at the sheets and failed. He had so little control over them, especially when he was unconscious, it was almost pitiful seeing him trying to use them. Gray put his hand over Lyon's, grasping it as hard and as gently as he dared. If he could still dream, he might still be able to feel pain right now, and he didn't need any more of that.

He slowly sank down, his elbow resting on the side of the mattress. _Ride it out, c'mon, you can do it. It's just some nightmares._ He tried to ignore any names he managed to make out from Lyon's faint mumbling.

It was going to be a mess when Lyon eventually regained consciousness. Delirium, panicking, and perhaps another bout of catatonia were all immediate predicted symptoms from Porlyusica when he finally woke. She wasn't a mental doctor, but she knew the effects losing a limb and loved ones had on a patient. Survivor's guilt and post-traumatic-stress were also likely, and he would need to be rehabilitated because of his missing arm. There was no way he could fight in the war anymore, if he dared to even try it Gray was going to personally knock him back out.

Soon Lyon's shaking stopped, his jaw loosened, and his breathing slowed. His eyebrows were still pulled down, and he was still sweating, but the worst of it seemed to be over. Physically, anyway. Gray let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders lose some of the tension he had adopted. This was a short one, and he was glad. Hopefully he would stop getting them, soon.

But for now, he was just glad his breathing was back to normal. He was glad he was even alive, even though he looked about as strong as paper right now. When he found Lyon, when he had been barely breathing in Gray's arms, he was terrified. He thought he was going to lose his practical brother, the last of Ur's family*, the last of Lamia Scale. He managed to pull through the life threatening times, but he had to wake up before they could do anything else to help, other than watch over him and make sure he was recovering as best he could.

Gray slowly dropped his head down, and let it rest on the mattress, next to Lyon's arm. He supposed he would have to wait for that to happen. Not much else he could do, anyway. He couldn't even stay here that much longer, he needed rest too, before he got called back out to another battle.

But Lyon would wake up eventually, soon, hopefully. And Gray was going to try his best to stay alive until that happened. Lyon didn't need to lose anyone else. And he was going to need a lot of help getting himself back together, and dealing with that damn arm. Or lack-thereof. Regardless, he was going to need someone. Multiple someones.

And he may know a few.

* * *

wHOOP SO THERE U GO. after, what, 6 months, i finally come back and publish another chapter. ikr, i didnt expect it either.

ive actually had done this for a long time now! its just been sitting in my docs. mocking me. i edited it slightly before posting, and i added and/or removed whole sections to this multiple times before i remembered it today. more of a soft, angsty post-patching up chapter this time :3c

*okay, i know that Ultear isnt dead, as we were shown in recent chapters. BUT when i wrote the first chapter, i had somehow forgotten Gray said she was still alive? so when she came back i realized i should probably fix the mention of her being dead in the first chapter, but i never got around to it. now, i believe im going to leave it as-is, because its been so long and i feel weird editing it now.

and if you didnt catch on (or i didnt make it obvious enough) the "multiple someones" Gray refers to at the end is Fairy Tail. all of it. time for a new family bro, come here u hedgehog headed mess.

Thank you for reading! 3 there is only a teeny tiny chance ill ever add a new chapter to this, so dont get your hopes up for a 3rd. sorry ;u;


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